


Team Colors

by somewhereelse



Series: Guidelines for Reintroduction [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 02:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17674673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somewhereelse/pseuds/somewhereelse
Summary: Alternate 7.12 family reunion.The first Sunday of the reunited Clayton-Smoak-Queen household.





	Team Colors

**Author's Note:**

> Arrow 150 Mood: Underwhelmed*
> 
> *More like Very Annoyed? Only acceptable (head) canons I gleaned were Felicity co-opting “coolcoolcool” from binge-watching B99 and Thea being back and easily reachable.

“There you go! That’s how it’s done! Baby, did you see—”

Felicity cringed as Oliver cut himself off. Probably because he realized he was taking to dead air. 

Will, whose sports interests were limited to baseball, disappeared into his room sometime during the first quarter. She held on for longer, lulled to comfort by her feet resting in Oliver’s lap and her tablet resting in her hands. Then he promptly knocked both out of place by leaping up to object to a particularly offensive false start flag. That’s when she made the timely exit to the kitchen and their cabinets of mildly bad-for-you junk food.

Really, she could have tried to be more supportive and engaged. Well, at least she knew what a false start was, self-explanatory as it was, when Thea still adopted a blank and confused look every time Oliver tried to ex/mansplain the rules. Felicity was almost positive Thea understood more than she let on and feigned ignorance mostly to annoy Oliver. She also never saw the younger Queen as relieved as the day it became socially acceptable to stop supporting the NFL.

In any case, her complete disinterest in the sport was offset only so much by how utterly handsome and boyish Oliver looked in his Rams shirt. Royal blue and gold (faded as the colors were) did amazing things for his already wonderful eyes, and he didn’t wear the colors nearly enough. Plus, his lucky shirt was decades-old and pulled sinfully tight across his shoulders and arms and abs and just _everything_. The threadbare fabric was soft to cuddle against and, when combined with his natural body heat radiating through, resulted in her being particularly handsy.

Her fond musings were interrupted by the man himself appearing from around the cabinets. He raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her, and she flushed guiltily. “In my defense, you hardly noticed us leave.”

Oliver grinned, light and charming, before advancing on her. _Mmhmm_ , her mental commentary unhelpfully provided as her brain shorted out. She really should be more supportive of Sunday football if it managed to put that look on her perpetually broody husband’s face. Not to mention, that shirt might actually be doing God’s work.

“Have I ever told you how glad I am that you’re not a Dolphins fan?” Felicity had no idea what caused that random question to pop out of her mouth and regretted it even more when Oliver stopped in his tracks and gave her a confused-puppy head tilt. “I’m just saying, I don’t think anybody could make aqua blue and orange look good. Not even you.”

“ _You_ could,” he flirted back, and she rolled her eyes. Still, the corniness didn’t stop her from closing the distance and slipping her arms around his waist and her hands up his back. Just as she’d been reminiscing, the soft shirt molded to his muscles (and scars), and she helpfully kneaded his more obvious knots.

Her nails snagged on the fabric, and she made a soft noise of regret. “Might have to get you a new one before this thing disintegrates in the wash,” she suggested with a mental note for his birthday present. 

“Wouldn’t be my lucky shirt then,” he mildly protested.

Felicity grinned against the fabric, puckering her lips to press a kiss over his heart. “We could _make_ it lucky. Maybe a jersey? You know, I bet with your shoulders, you wouldn’t even need the shoulder pads.”

Oliver’s eyes closed as his expression eased into dreamy relaxation for a long moment before he recomposed himself. “You know,” he mimicked quietly, “I think you might have a thing for jocks.”

Felicity hummed in false contemplation. “If you’re right, we’re quite the stereotype because I think you have a thing for nerds.” She met his smiling eyes with a challenging look, but Oliver didn’t even bother putting up a fight.

“You might be right.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m a nerd.”

“Just remember, you’re the one calling yourself that.”

Their lips were just barely grazing against each other. The close talking was an intimate display of affection they didn’t engage in except in absolute privacy. Felicity was about to scoff and lob back a barely witty retort—sometimes she had a hard time concentrating with all of Oliver at her fingertips—when their banter was interrupted.

“Oh come on! Seriously, you guys, we eat in here.”

Will mimed sticking his finger down his throat and exaggerated some retching noises. Quickly, they shared a sheepish eye roll before taking a step back, but not without fond and regretful pats on each other’s backsides. Which was immediately caught if Will’s muttered _gross_ was anything to go by.

“Alright,” Oliver dropped one hand on Will’s shoulder and snagged his bag of chips with his other while ignoring his protests, “you can’t ditch me during bonding time then complain about me and Felicity.”

“Sure I can,” Will challenged even though he went willingly enough back to the living room with Oliver. “Hey! Why does Felicity get a pass if I have to watch dumb football with you?”

“I let you two play dumb video games for two hours last night. And she doesn’t. Hon!”

Felicity shuffled out of the kitchen with exaggerated reluctance to find identical sets of begging eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll make more popcorn.” And she shuffled right back in. It’s what she got for calling popcorn-popping a science.

As she started another soon-to-be-inhaled batch of popcorn, Oliver apparently managed to coax Will into cheering for his beloved team. She poked her head into the living room to find father and son whooping over a touchdown. Leaning against the wall, Felicity enjoyed witnessing the rare slice of simple domesticity until Oliver spotted her. Then she found herself slung over his shoulder as he ran laps around the room and Will laughed his head off at her shrieking.

College goth Felicity would have sent her the mother of all viruses for it. IT nerd Felicity would have rambled her way into a black hole of embarrassment for even thinking it. But _this_ Felicity—Overwatch of Team Arrow, founder and CEO of Smoak Technologies, wife to Oliver Queen, stepmother to William Clayton—had zero qualms about ordering custom matching jerseys in time for next week’s game.

 

**Author's Note:**

> New Year’s resolution was to reply to comments and I loopholed that by just not writing for a month so I guess it’s now the Lunar New Year’s resolution.
> 
> Oliver’s team is SA’s team even though I know the Seahawks would make more geographical sense.


End file.
